I think God might be a drag queen in a thrifted fur coat
- activateeditor
- 5 days ago
- 2 min read
By Angel Dukashe
I tried being normal once, and it physically hurt. I don’t know how people do it, wake up, put on sensible clothing, make neutral facial expressions, and attend their little schedules. There’s something spiritually suffocating about pretending to be digestible. Society loves to preach “be yourself”, but what they really mean is “be palatable.” Smile, but not like you’re too excited. Be bold but not intimidating. Dress well, but not in a threatening manner.
Meanwhile, I’ve realised my body rejects moderation. If I leave the house without at least one questionable accessory, I feel underdressed and underpowered. Beige gives me anxiety. Practicality makes me itch. My soul craves excess, not in a materialistic sense, but in presence. I don’t want to be seen. I want to be witnessed.
And you know who understood that centuries before Vogue did? Drag queens. Drag queens are the last philosophers we have. They cracked the code; identity is a costume, and reality is 90% performance. While everyone else is scrambling for “authenticity,” drag artists are out there crafting themselves with intention. They don’t just get dressed; they invent a person and walk into the world like it’s the only truth that ever existed. That’s not vanity. That’s transcendence.
Honestly, I trust a queen in six-inch heels more than I trust any man in a suit. CEOs talk about innovation while wearing the same navy blazer every day. Politicians speak of freedom while looking like expired oatmeal. But a drag queen? She enters the room and declares, “I am the moment.” That is political. That is spiritual. That is fashion with consequences. Which brings me to my next belief: minimalism is a scam. They told us, “Less is more.” No. Less is less. More is freedom. More is narrative. More says I exist loudly, unapologetically, and with accessories. I don’t want clean lines, I want silhouettes that confuse people. I want to look like both a Renaissance angel and someone who got electrocuted in a thrift store. Why choose? Why shrink?
People love to say, “You’re doing too much.” Yes. Obviously. I have no interest in doing the bare minimum. If you think I’m overdressed, you’re under-evolved. If my energy is “a bit much,” maybe your standard is “a bit dead.”
Here’s my final truth: If I’m too much, go find less. I’m not toning myself down for someone else’s comfort. I’m not diluting my sparkle to be easier to swallow. I don’t dress for practicality, I dress for legacy. One day, archaeologists will dig up my remains and say, “Whoever lived here loved drama and possibly committed tax fraud, but damn, she had taste.” That’s all I really want. To live loud, love hard, accessorise aggressively.
This isn’t just fashion. This is survival.
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